


Just Enough

by MagpieWords



Series: AUgust 2020 - Magpiewords [13]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Human, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Domestic Fluff, F/F, Getting Together, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), Old Age, She/Her Pronouns for Aziraphale (Good Omens), She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:55:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25977799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagpieWords/pseuds/MagpieWords
Summary: Ms. Crowley had been hired as Mrs. Azira Fell's personal assistant and bodyguard over four decades ago. And she's always been willing to give her noble employer anything she desires.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: AUgust 2020 - Magpiewords [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860265
Comments: 3
Kudos: 50
Collections: AUgust 2020





	Just Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Bodyguard was a tricky prompt for me, and I wanted to write something soft – about longing for something you can see so clearly but know you wont be able to have, but with a positive twist. Also basically taking the concept of "you go too fast for me" and saying instead "no, you go just fast enough."
> 
> Sometimes it's nice to see two old ladies in love.

“That looks nice,” Mrs. Fell sighed in that wistful way she did.

They were outside today. Nowhere so bold as the park, just on the lawn outside the massive Fell estate. Mrs. Fell’s gaze was just beyond the ancient wrought iron gates and Crowley tilted her head down, trying to see what looked so nice to have captured her employer’s attention.

“‘Fraid I don’t see it, ma’am.”

“Ms. Crowley, dear, I must insist you stop calling me that. My husband is no longer around to enforce such formalities. Azira will do just fine.”

“Azira,” Crowley had tasted the name of her lips more times than was proper, even when Mr. Fell was still alive. “Do you miss him?”

The silence that stretched from Azira was answer enough, but she attempted to deflect anyway. “I miss running more.” She pointed to a group of young ladies, in the prime of their forties, jogging together across the street.

“You hate joggers, ma’am.”

Azira cleared her throat pointedly and Crowley leaned back down to whisper in her ear. “Forgive me. Azira.”

The shudder she drew out of her employer would have been concerning if Crowley didn’t know she was the sole cause.

“But yes,” Azira deflected again, “I do hate joggers. And jogging. And running, I suppose. But I hate not being able to do any of those things even more.” She traced her delicate fingers along the wheel of her chair. 

“What do you miss about it?”

Azira hummed softly, considering. “The wind in my hair, I suppose. Silly, we could just get in the car.”

“It’s different though, I get it. Let me see what I can do,” Crowley offered, moving to stand fully behind her employer as she pushed her along the private drive of the estate. She was just as old as Mrs. Fell, and a lifetime on her feet by the noble lady’s side certainly didn’t leave her knees any better off that Mrs. Fell’s, but she managed to walk a little faster, wheels squeaking at the increased speed.

“Ms. Crowley, what trouble are you getting us into now?” There was laughter in her voice, the kind Crowley lived for.

“Just hold on, Azira.”

It wasn’t easy, but soon they were running in circles around the fountain in the center of the driveway, hollering like children a fraction of their age. Azira’s hair had become a tangled mess of pale blonde curls, and Crowley knew there would be a trail of bobby pins from both of them that the groundskeeper would be cleaning up for weeks. As her legs protested, she slowed.

“Not too fast for you?”

“No, dear.” The way Azira looked at her made Crowley’s heart flutter. It was like she knew Crowley would give her everything she asked for. “Just fast enough.”

* * *

The wild ride in the front yard retreated into a quiet evening together. Some nights they played cards or Azira would lose herself in one of her books, but some nights, they sat near each other, watching mindless television.

Some nights, like tonight, Azira pushed herself out of her chair, and sat on the couch with Crowley. Couch might be a generous word for it; loveseat would be more accurate. It was comfortable enough for Crowley to sprawl across in her younger years of service to the Fell family, but now her old bones might not let her up fast enough if she needed to protect her employer.

Funny, in all these decades, she’d never once had to protect Azira from anything more than bad weather or bad press.

“That looks nice,” Azira sighed, inching closer to Crowley with the illusion of being subtle. Crowley hadn’t been paying attention to their show, stealing equally unsubtle glances at Mrs. Fell, but looked back at the screen.

“The coffee shop? ‘Fraid I don’t get it, Azira.” Mrs. Fell didn’t even drink coffee.

She shrugged, shoulder falling nearly inches from Crowley’s. “I never got to do that. Mr. Fell once took me to the Ritz, but even there the paparazzi was ruthless. I hardly got to enjoy my tea before you had to whisk me away.”

“Ah, I remember that. Goodness, we were young then.” The lavish gown Azira had worn hugged her ample frame and Crowley had trouble focusing on her job (even if Azira was technically her job).

“We were,” Azira nodded. He’d lost her attention on the television program, turning to look at Crowley. “I’ve never even been to a tea parlor, you know.”

Crowley smiled and it was only years of professional composure that kept that smile from overwhelming her narrow face as a lovesick grin. “Let me see what I can do.”

She rose to her feet and politely ignored the small whine of protest from her employer as she disappeared out of the over decorated living room. It wasn’t easy, and Crowley’s penmanship was never something she had been proud of, but after a few minutes of scrounging around the kitchen, she returned to Azira’s side and handed her a piece of paper.

“And what would the lady prefer for her first course?” Crowley asked, pushing her voice as posh as it could go. The overacted accent made Azira giggle and Crowley would have melted on the spot if she wasn’t so busy forcing her posture to be perfect.

“Oh my, you really outdid yourself, dear. A proper menu and everything.” Azira scanned the hastily drawn page before tapping her fingers on an item Crowley had been particularly proud of creating. “The angel’s delight would suit me nicely.”

“Your order will be out shortly.” And Azira’s laughter followed Crowley all the way into the kitchen as she prepared a cup of cocoa, piled high with whipped cream and doused with chocolate sprinkles. The tea tray was joined with a handful of biscuits taken from various pre-packaged items across the kitchen and Crowley carried it to place in Azira’s lap.

“Ms. Crowley, this is delightful!” She took a sip of the decadent drink, humming happily as she did. Crowley joined her back on the couch, her black slacks pressing gently against the pale cream fabric of Azira’s skirt.

“Not too sweet for you?”

“No dear,” Azira looked at her with that same heated gaze that made Crowley want to– “Just sweet enough.”

* * *

“Angel’s delight, how ever did you come up with that?” Azira asked as Crowley was helping to take out her remaining hair pins.

“Well,” Crowley stood between Azira and the mirror, fidgeting with the different brushes and products for her employer’s nighttime routine. “It’s something you delight in.”

“Do you think of me as an angel, dear?”

Crowley shrugged, refusing to turn around. “I might. Is that too much?”

“No, no. I rather like it.” Azira fell quiet as Crowley paced about, grumbling about hair care, though she was just as guilty of the same type of preening. Her red locks wouldn’t curl themselves, not like how Azira fluffy halo of blonde hair did. She was trying to find the make up remover when Azira spoke again.

“That looks nice.” Azira said, delicately breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen over them, like cracking a spoon against a crème brûlée’s glaze. Crowley turned to see what she was referring to, but she was staring right at Crowley.

Crowley swallowed heavily, forcing her unsteady voice to come out without shivering. “‘Fraid I don’t understand, angel.”

A hand brushed against hers and Azira brought Crowley’s knuckles to her plush lips. Her first kiss was so light, she didn’t even leave a stain of her delicate pink lipstick against Crowley’s skin.

She turned Crowley’s hand over, pressing a deeper kiss to her palm. That left a mark, and Crowley struggled to bite back a gasp. It was a losing battle, as Azira kissed her wrist, then further up her arm. “Come here, dear?” It was a question, but a pointless one. Azira hardly needed to ask before Crowley would give her whatever she wanted.

And if she was what Azira wanted? Well, Crowley had never once complained about this job and she wasn’t about to start now.

“Not too much, angel?” She whispered against Azira’s lips, inches from her.

“I don’t think I’ll ever have enough of you,” Azira confessed, pulling Crowley down into a proper kiss.


End file.
